


Chess?

by allstoriesintheend



Series: In The Golden Afternoon [11]
Category: Alice in Wonderland (1951), Once Upon a Time (TV), Once Upon a Time in Wonderland (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Cursed Storybrooke, F/M, Mad Curiosity, Storybrooke, White Rabbit - Freeform, Wonderland, prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-03
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2019-08-17 07:27:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16511897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allstoriesintheend/pseuds/allstoriesintheend
Summary: Prompt:At the local coffee shop, there’s a chess set set up in one corner of the shop and every morning I move one piece. Later in the day, someone else always moves a piece too. I’m dying to know who I’m playing against.





	Chess?

**Author's Note:**

> In this AU, Jefferson and Alice do not already have a previous relationship, and are both in Storybrooke.

The bell to the little tea shop rang as Jefferson pushed the door open. He stepped out of the bitter cold that had wrapped itself around Storybrooke and into the warmth that the shop had to offer, letting it engulf him. The smells of fresh-baked pastries and tea hit him, making him hum under his breath as he moved further inside. Upon instinct, his gaze wandered over toward the almost-hidden chess table tucked away in the very corner of the cosy little space.

 

It had happened again.

 

As sure as it happened every day, one of the white pieces had moved to mirror the movement of the black piece he had placed the day before.

 

A smile began to grow upon his lips.

 

Jefferson’s gaze moved toward the counter where Neville White, the older shop owner, was standing with his hands braced against the surface of the counter.

 

“Do you know who comes in here and plays with the board?” Jefferson asked, moving toward the counter. He unbuttoned his coat, but left his ascot fixed perfectly around his neck.

 

“Of course,” Neville replied, allowing a smile to play upon his lips.

 

“Who is it?”

 

“Ah, now. That isn’t what you asked me.” The older man chuckled, making Jefferson roll his eyes. “You asked me if I knew who it was.”

 

“I’d like to know. Every day when I get here, I move a piece, and when I arrive the following day, the opposite piece is moved to mirror it.”

 

“I know. I’ve been watching your little game. Five days now, is it?” Neville pushed himself from the counter, busying himself with Jefferson’s tea without even having to ask what the other wanted.

 

“Six,” Jefferson’s fingers drummed upon the counter, looking around the shop. A few of the plush chairs were filled with people enjoying their tea and what Jefferson liked to refer to as mindless chatter.  
  
  
There were still several seats empty – and nobody that seemed to be in any rush to approach the chess table. He took it upon himself to move across to it, bending to look at the pieces. His pawns had been mirrored, as had his most recent move – a Black Bishop. He narrowed his gaze, thinking over his next move carefully. Eventually, he picked up one of his Knights and moved it, placing it neatly upon the centre of the tile he picked. Satisfied, he moved back toward the counter, in time to see both Neville and Neville’s wife watching him, each with an expression of fond amusement.  
  
  
“Will you tell me who it is?”

 

“I should think not.” Neville shook his head, as did his wife. “That would spoil your game.”

 

“You’re of very little help, you know.” Jefferson waved his hand dismissively before collecting his tea – made to go, as always. “Never a straight answer.”

 

When neither answered him, he sighed and nodded toward the chess table.  
  


“I’ll be back tomorrow to play again.”  
  


Jefferson turned on his heel, waving over his shoulder at both of the owners as he left. The bell went again as he left the warmth of the tea shop and stepped back into the cold, feeling a shiver dance its way up his spine. The only saving grace he had was the tea held tightly in one hand, which he carefully avoided spilling upon someone as he almost walked into them.  
  
  
“Sorry.”  
  
But he barely glanced down toward the head of blonde hair as he hurried past, even after the person he had walked into turned, making a quiet noise that seemed to die upon her lips. She watched him walk away, taking note of how he almost had a jittery step, as though he was in a rush to get where he was going. She tucked her blonde locks behind her ears, sighing quietly to herself before she turned back to the front of the cosy tea shop.

 

* * *

 

The bell rang, and the woman’s eyes wandered over toward the chess table. A delighted smile painted itself upon her lips as she stepped closer, noticing that one of the Black Knights had been moved. She lingered only for a moment before she moved a White Knight, mirroring the placement of its opposite piece.  
  
Satisfied, she turned toward the counter, where Neville was watching her with a bright smile.

 

“Good day, Alice.”  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
When Jefferson rushed into the shop the following afternoon, the bell rang so loudly that it startled the few residents of Storybrooke that filled the plush chairs. Jefferson went immediately toward the counter, seeming to forget about the chess table for the moment.  
  
  
“I was beginning to think you weren’t coming today.” Neville looked at him, raising both eyebrows as he gave Jefferson a once over. “What’s the matter?”  
  
  
“Grace. Her – her other parents.”  
  
  
“Ah.” Neville moved from the counter as Jefferson’s fingers twitched upon the counter. Neville took one look at him and then gestured toward the chess table, which seemed to make Jefferson remember.  
  
  
“You best have your turn for today.”  
  
  
“Won’t I have missed it? I’m –” Jefferson untucked the pocket-watch from his waistcoat, glancing at the gleaming face of it. “Hours late.”  
  
  
“I think you’ll find that you came at exactly the right time.”  
  


“Coming from a man who is late for almost everything.” Jefferson gave Neville a sceptical look, but when he didn’t get a response, he made his way toward the chess table. A smile found its way upon his lips, looking at the mirrored White Knight to his Black. He gazed at the table, losing himself to thought – so much so, that he didn’t hear the bell to the shop ring out again.

 

His fingers trailed over a Rook, moving the piece across the board. His narrowed gaze looked upon it for several moments before he finally decided that it was the perfect move. Before he could move, however, a delighted voice spoke from behind him.

 

“It’s you.”

 

Jefferson turned, his gaze wandering to and locking upon a woman whose blonde hair fell loose around her shoulders, and whose eyes seemed impossibly blue. His mouth opened, then closed, finding himself lost for words.

 

“Me?”

 

“The person I’m playing against. It’s you.”  
  
  
“You’re the one…?”

 

“But of course.” She moved around him, gingerly picking up the White Rook and mirroring the very move he had made only moments before. She turned to him, smiling brightly. Jefferson couldn’t help in smiling back at her, feeling a sense of wonder wash over him that he couldn’t quite explain.

 

“Seven days. I’ve been hoping –”  
  
  
“—That you’d see who it was."

  
  
Jefferson finished for her, finding that his response drew out soft laughter from her. A few moments passed between them, with Jefferson’s expression being one filled with a gentle awe. Whoever he had been expecting, she certainly hadn’t ben it. He found himself intrigued after just a few moments in her presence, and before he knew it, he had asked a question that he hadn’t thought out all the way through.  
  
  
“Would – Would you like to get some tea?”  
  
  
“I would.”  
  
  
Jefferson turned to look at Neville, as she did, but to their surprise, there was already two steaming cups upon the counter – cups to stay, complete with saucers. Neville chuckled, waving at the both of them before he busied himself behind the counter again. Jefferson itched his neck just underneath his ascot, while she giggled quietly and rocked upon the balls of her feet.  
  
  
“I’m Jefferson.”  
  
  
He held out his hand, offering it to her. She took it almost immediately, shaking it gently. Her fingers lingered around his even after she had stopped shaking his hand, and Jefferson could’ve sworn his heart had skipped a beat right then and there.  
  
  
“Alice.”


End file.
